Mary's Tale
by Salomedancing
Summary: The story about Lady Van Tassel, and what made her into the person she was. Very dark.
1. In the Woods

Disclaimer: I don't own Sleepy Hollow, I just play with the characters for fun. 

AN: Thanks to Japanpeterpan for beta

This is a dark story. I'm not aiming to make Mary Van Tassel into a heroine, though she is certainly wronged. But I always felt that there were more reason for her hate and lust for revenge than given in the movie, and this is what I came up with. If you have read this story elsewhere, then you will notice that it have been edited to fit a lower rating. Nevertheless, the story contains non-graphic rape, child abuse and sex with a minor. Please, don't read this story if that bothers you.

**In the Woods**

Mary never liked to think back to her earliest childhood. The memories hurt too much. It was almost like it was a life that had belonged to another little girl called Mary, and though filled with work, it had also been filled with laughter and fun. It all ended abruptly on the spring when her father fell from a roof, and died of a broken neck.

Before that happened Mary had never thought much of the fact that she and her sister Eliza never played with the other children in the village. They had been occupied enough with themselves and with mother. She had never thought about the fact that no other woman ever crossed their threshold, if they didn't come to ask mother to do something for them.

No one came to the funeral but the priest and their master, Van Garrett. No one else took the time to pay respect to the crying widow and her two pale daughters. No one came to comfort them after. Only Van Garrett came, but very late when Mary and Eliza had gone to bed. But Mary awoke, hearing her mother talk very fast, and very angrily. Mary crept downstairs, but she couldn't make out the words, just that Van Garrett sounded quite angry too, and then he left, slamming the door.

The next day he sent Masbath to tell Mrs Archer that she had to leave, within a week, from the cottage that they had lived in since before Mary was born.

"It's a relative to Van Garrett, with a small family and he needs the house."

Mary's mother looked tired, though not surprised. "I have a family too. Where will I take them? How am I supposed to feed them?"

Masbath looked a bit uncomfortable. "My master say that if you reconsider his offer he can find another place for you."

But Mrs. Archer just shook her head. "Tell him that we will leave when we have to."

They spent the next few days packing whatever they could carry. Mrs. Archer tried to sell the things that were too large for them to move, but had no luck. She did manage to sell the cow, though she later said bitterly to her daughters that she had to be content with half of what she ought to have gotten. The last night they burned the things they couldn't take with them.

"We will not leave anything of ours to the thieves that comes after us," Mrs. Archer said. "We have to leave the house, but nothing that is mine will ever be theirs."

Mary looked at her mother and wished she could do something, but she was too little. She felt that she hated everyone who had been so mean to her mother.

"When I grow up I will revenge you," she said, and that made her mother smile a little.

When they left they met a carriage heading for the house. A rather fat and cheerful man waved at them, and beside him his wife smiled at Mary, but Mary only stared back, hating her as much as she could. The woman was as fair as mother, but her face rather plain when mother was beautiful. In her arms she held a baby, and Mary hated the child too. It wasn't fair that the baby would sleep in Mary's room, and it wasn't fair that a woman who was nothing compared to mother should use mother's kitchen.

They went out into the woods. It scared Eliza, but Mary thought it fascinating. They walked the whole day, and by nightfall they came to a small hut, built close to a large boulder. Inside Mary found that the boulder was quite hollow, which made half of the room a cave. It was poor, but at least it was a roof over their head, mother said.

"Who used to live here?" Eliza asked.

"A witch," mother answered, and Eliza laughed, thinking mother was joking. But Mary could see that mother was serious, and late that night she scared Eliza badly with a tale of what the witch had done when she lived.

There was more work to be done from now on, and very little time to play. But despite all the hard work, there was very little to eat. The cold spring made way for an equally cold and rainy summer. The berries and fruits rotted before they were ready to be picked. In August Mary was so used to being hungry that she hardly thought about it anymore. Mother started to cough, a persistent racking cough that made her whole body shake. Some days she could hardly get up from the bed, and those days Mary had to cook, if there was any food to cook, and to make sure Eliza did her chores.

Then one day Van Garrett stood in the doorway. Mother stood up very straight, smothering her hair, and nodded very coolly. Van Garrett looked at her for a while, and then he stepped inside.

"You don't look so well, Mrs Archer. I dare say that you don't eat as much as you ought, and neither do you small ones."

He placed a basket on the table, and when he removed the napkin that covered it, Mary could smell fresh bread. She took a step closer without even thinking about it, and Eliza hid her hands behind her back so as not be tempted to try to take some.

"You know what I want, Mrs Archer, and it's a kindness, because you are not as pretty as you used to be. But I will make sure that you are fed and clothed. Perhaps it's not as distasteful as you once thought it was."

Mother was quiet for quite some time, but then she went to the basket and removed some bread and cheese that she gave to Mary and Eliza.

"Run out and play now, and don't come back before I call you. We have some business to discuss here."

Mary and Eliza obeyed, gobbling up their food by the small stream nearby, so that they could drink their fill of the cold water. They both agreed that it was the best thing they had ever eaten. But as soon as Mary had had her hunger quenched she could not help to think about her mother back in the hut. She became afraid that Van Garrett would hurt her, recalling how angry he had sounded the last time he visited them. So despite Eliza's protests she went back, huddling against the wall where she knew a crack would let her see in.

What she saw she could not really comprehend. She was still a child, and at first she firmly believed that Van Garret really was hurting her mother, and she almost ran inside to try to stop it. But she remained at the wall, watching. Mother was lying on her back on the table, her skirts pushed up around her waist, and her legs spread apart. The man stood between them, and pushed himself towards mother's belly, all while he groaned between clenched teeth.

Mother lay with her head turned away, and Mary could see her face clearly. Mother didn't look like she was in pain, she looked almost bored, whereas Van Garrett seemed to be much affected by what he was doing. His hand groped and fondled mother, and it occurred to Mary that it was mother who was in charge. Van Garrett sweated and pleaded, and mother wrapped her legs around his waist, which made him move faster, and his pleading became almost incoherent until he cried out and fell atop mother in a quivering heap.

Yes, Mary decided, there was power in that room, but it wasn't Van Garrett's power, it was mother's. She pushed him away, looking faintly sick, and rose from the table. Van Garrett turned away from her, but in doing so he turned towards Mary, and she could clearly see his man's parts. She had seen such things before when men relieved themselves, but it looked quite different now, larger and stiffer, though it seemed to lose its shape a bit as he tucked himself inside his clothing.

"I can come again?" he asked mother and he sounded much meeker than he had ever done before.

Mother shrugged. "As long as you bring food, you can come when you please."

He came quite often after that, always bringing food, and also some clothes. Mary and Eliza stopped being hungry, but mother ate little, and remained painfully thin. Despite the food she coughed more and more, and one day she coughed blood. It frightened both the children, but mother said not to worry. And when Van Garrett came, mother made an effort and coughed as little as possible.

Mary continued to peek through the wall. She was curious of the things going on there, and how the balance changed. When Van Garret arrived he was always the master, and mother curtsied and smiled, but as soon as she let him in between her legs she mastered him. She made him plead for her smallest touch, and he did. He begged on his bare knees for mother to take him in the mouth, for mother to ride him and she always let him plead for a long time. Mary watched, and she realised that one day she could do these things, and perhaps then she could find a way to keep that power. Now mother let it go ever time Van Garrett left, but Mary thought that when she grew up, she would never let it leave her.

Summer made way for autumn, and autumn slowly grew into winter. Van Garrett brought other things with him when he came- he brought news as well. He talked about the war that was going on, and about the battles that were quite close, just on the other side of the woods. He talked about the Hessian, a warrior that was more a monster than a man, and his tales made Mary and Eliza shiver. But Mary wanted to hear more, and though she had vowed in the beginning never to talk to Van Garrett, she now asked him eagerly about news of the war.

And the day before the winter really came, Mary met the war all by herself, in the shape of a man on a black horse.


	2. The Hessian

** b>The Hessian /b>**

Mary met the Hessian when she and Eliza were picking firewood, a task Mary hated with all her heart. The twigs and branches were difficult to carry, and they gave her splinters, not only in her hands, but on her arms and chest as well if she wasn't careful. She had just straightened up with yet another twig when she noticed that they were watched. Quite close to them a man sat on an enormous black horse, watching them impassively.

He looked very strange to Mary, who was used to the men in the village who were broad and short, and seemed to grow fat at the slightest opportunity. This man was tall and lean, and deadly pale. His dead black eyes met Mary's grey ones, and then he smiled. A smile that revealed rows of sharpened teeth, and Mary knew at once who he was. She knew she ought to be afraid- Van Garrett had often told her the gruesome details of the Hessian's cruel deeds, but all she felt was a small thrill down her spine. The man radiated power, so strong that it almost reeked, fed on blood as it had. Mary could hear Eliza's small gasp, and then her sisters bundle dropped to the ground and she took to her feet, but Mary stood still, staring.

He swung himself down from his horse, but though standing on the ground he towered above her. Mary didn't flinch when he came toward her, not even when he bent down and gripped her chin, forcing her head back.

"Such a pretty little girl," he said, and his accent was strange, thicker and slower than what she was accustomed to, though she could understand him well enough. Mary's heart beat hard in her chest, so hard she could feel it echo in her ears, and she didn't struggle when the man took her around her waist and put her on the horse. She just clung to the saddle as the man led the animal deeper into the woods.

Mary couldn't remember ever sitting on a horse this big, and after the initial shock of being suddenly so high up, she enjoyed it. She could feel the muscles of the horse move, and she imagined how it would feel to ride in a gallop over a battlefield. A broad sword hung from the saddle, and she quite enjoyed the thought of hunting Van Garrett, and Masbath, and the people who had moved into her house with such a sword, lopping off their heads as they ran. The Hessian could do those things, she was sure, and would like it.

Her dreams were interrupted when the horse stopped, and the man lifted her down again. Mary realised that she didn't exactly know where they were- this part of the wood was unknown to her, and for the first time she felt a little afraid. He brought her into the shade of a large oak tree, and there he removed his black mantle and spread it on the ground, and placed Mary upon it.

There he kneeled in front of her, and Mary knew that now she ought to run, she really should, but she remained transfixed, staring into his eyes that seemed totally without emotions. He smiled again, and she shivered at the sight of razor shape teeth, and then he removed his gauntlets, without taking his eyes from her. His hands found their way under her skirts, large hands that felt rough against her skin. Up, up they went, and Mary lost control over her knees in fear, but also in excitement, because the Hessian's face changed, changed to echo the look on Van Garrett's face when he touched mother, and she knew that now she would experience the same thing.

And though she knew she should resist, she couldn't when he pushed her down and back, and her skirts were pushed up, and the cold air caressed her skin. Mary could sense the danger she was in, but she could do nothing to stop it, and she briefly wondered if this was how a mouse felt when a snake caught it in its stare. She did nothing to try to stop his hands as he touched her between her legs, not until he hurt her, and then it was too late.

When he finally stood up, Mary couldn't move. Everything hurt too much, and so she just waited insilence for what was to happen next. He would kill her now, Mary thought. He would cut her head of with that awful sword, and she welcomed it. If she died now, she wouldn't be in pain anymore, and the prospect of never having to feel anything again felt like a relief.

But the only thing he did was to pull her up, and away from his mantle, and then he sat up on his horse again. He threw a few gold coins at her, and Mary suddenly felt something else, apart from fear and pain. Anger surged through her, and though it was a futile gesture she spat at him. The Hessian just laughed, an almost inaudible sound, and totally without joy, and then he left her.

For the longest time she remained huddled on the ground, cold and miserable. Then she gathered the money and hid them carefully inside her bodice, and then she slowly made her way back. She could follow the hoofprints from the horse, and though it took her a long time, she managed to get back from where she had first met the Hessian, and she knew her way home. When she neared the hut, her mother met her. She first called out for her, asking where Eliza was, but when she saw Mary's white face she knew that it was not Eliza she needed to worry about.

Mother helped Mary back, and now when she knew she was as safe as she could be, Mary could hardly walk. She let her mother undress her, put her to bed, and wash away the blood from her body. Her mother's face paled when she got the story out from Mary, but she said very little. She just sat at the edge of the bed and stroke Mary's head until the girl fell asleep.

Eliza didn't return from her hiding place until nearly nightfall, and then mother whipped her until she had to stop to cough. Mary watched it with relish, she was glad that Eliza would have to suffer as well, but she knew that had Eliza stayed, or run to mother for help, it would not have saved Mary anyway. Rather it would have meant that the man would have hurt them as well, and that Mary didn't even wanted to think about.

For a few days Mary grew better- the pain sank back, and she stopped bleeding, but then a new pain appeared, deep down in her belly. With it came a fever, and for a week she was tossed around in nightmares where she re-lived the horrors she had gone through in the Hessian's arms, all over again. In the end she pulled through, but when she was once again up and about, her mother talked to her.

"I think something was very badly damaged, Mary, and that is why you suffered from the fever. I believe- I think it's very likely, that you will never be able to bear children."

Mother almost cried when she told her, but Mary felt nothing. She didn't care if she would ever have children, as it seemed to her that her mother would have been better off had she not had Mary and Eliza to take care of. The lasting results of Mary's illness was that the consumption that ravaged her mother's lungs grew worse, seemingly by the day. She was always cold, and the dreaded tack of gathering firewood became something the sisters did aplenty. Thus they were doing the same thing the next time they met the Hessian, as they had done the first time he crossed their path.

Eliza fled this time as well, but Mary stayed. Not out of will, but because her legs had frozen in terror as soon as she saw him. And he saw her, but to her astonishment he did nothing but gesturing to her to keep silent. She quickly understood why when she could hear the sounds of pursuit, and in a rush she knew that it was her turn to be the stronger of the two of them. The dry twig she was holding was in this instant a much more dangerous weapon than the sword the Hessian wielded, and they both knew it.

Mary could see that he didn't believe that she would do it. She looked into his eyes again and saw that he was already laughing over her weakness, and she saw the lust, and she held out the piece of wood and then she snapped it. The sound seemed to echo in the silence, and Mary saw the disbelief in his eyes before he had to turn to the men who were hunting him. Mary hid, but she could still see what happened, and she felt a fierce joy when they hacked the Hessian's head right off his shoulders. She had done it, she had revenged herself, and he would never hurt her again.

When the men had buried the corpse and left, she crept up to the pile of fresh earth. The sword had been rammed into the ground, and Mary couldn't resist touching the edge with a finger. In an instant it drew blood, and a glistening drop ran down the blade, and was sucked into the earth.

"Everyone," Mary whispered. "I'll make everyone pay like this. I will. I shall."


	3. Growing Up

Growing Up 

Mother grew worse, leaving Mary to take care of most things. The little energy mother had left she used for the visits from Van Garrett. It amazed Mary that he seemed so oblivious to her mother's illness, but perhaps he chose not to see because that would mean he would be forced to give her the help she needed so badly. Eliza was of little help. She took to wandering all over the woods, talking to the strays who passed, and the natives, but rarely to Mary. Not that Mary minded. She had grown to dislike her sister, who, Mary felt, always ran away from the hurtful things leaving Mary to care.

So perhaps it was typical that the evening that Mrs. Archer drew her last breath, Eliza stayed only long enough to make sure that her mother had indeed stopped breathing, and then she fled, leaving Mary with the cooling corpse. Mary didn't cry, but for a long time she sat at mother's side, holding her hand. Not until it was completely cold did she let go of it. Then she left the hut, barring the door carefully so no animal could get in.

She went to the village. She had never returned to it, and when she saw it again it surprised her that she had no sense of homecoming. She had, after all, lived there her whole life, and she thought she ought to feel something. Only when she glimpsed her old home did she feel a small twinge, but then she shrugged. She didn't have time to long for what she couldn't have-there would be time for that later.

She knew the way to Van Garrett's large mansion very well, but her feet felt heavy, and the closer she came, the slower she seemed to walk. She didn't knock on the door, instead she crept around, peeking into the windows until she spotted Van Garrett, sitting in his library. She tentatively tapped on the window with her fingertips, quietly at first, but then more boldly, until he acknowledged her. As she had predicted he didn't want to let her in, staring quizzically down at her from the opened window.

"What do you want, child?" he said unkindly.

"Mother is dead."

Then he let her in, lifting her into the room. She sat down on a stool in front of the fire, feeling warmth seep into her, as Van Garrett made sure that the door was securely locked, and the curtains drawn before he came to sit by her.

"Dead? Are you sure? Yes, I suppose you are. Well, I will send Masbath to take care of the body and see to it that it's buried."

"And what about us? What about Eliza and me?"

Van Garrett shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, yes, I guess you need something. There are orphanages in New York, I'll send you there."

Mary watched him carefully. He showed no sign of grief, if anything he seemed annoyed over this disturbance of his peaceful evening. She could feel the familiar anger well up inside her. He had killed her beautiful mother, and now he thought he could go free with providing a hole in the ground and a one-way travel ticket. She didn't want to leave Sleepy Hollow, regardless of whether things could be better elsewhere.

"So, you are not coming to visit us anymore?"

Van Garrett snorted. "Why should I?"

Mary looked up at him through her lashes. "Don't you think I'm pretty?"

He frowned. "You are very pretty- for being a little child."

"I'm not so little, sir, and I can prove it to you."

She slid down on the floor, kneeling in front of him. Van Garrett shifted a little, and looked away, but Mary caught a quick glimpse of what she had learnt to call desire, in his eyes. Inside she felt terrified, but her instinct of survival told her that this would be the best way. He had come back to mother over and over again for this thing, and if Mary could provide it, then he would bring food and clothes as before.

"I've watched and learned," she said, trying to mimic her mother's low voice. When she stretched out her hands and placed them on his crotch he did nothing to stop her. She swallowed, thinking of what she had seen her mother do many times. It couldn't be so difficult she told herself, though what she most of all wanted was to run away from this room, and away from the man. But then he placed his own hand over hers, pressing her palms against him, and she pushed away her fear.

Van Garrett was nothing, after all, compared to the Hessian, and she had survived him. And she wouldn't let Van Garrett do that to her, that awful, awful thing the Hessian had made to her. This was her choice, wasn't it?

When he was done she bowed her head, blinking away the threatening tears. Not until she was sure that she had control over her features did she look up at the heavily panting man.

"You little witch," he said when he had regained his breath, and Mary smiled.

"But you liked it, didn't you. You liked it very much. I just want to stay where I am, and you can come and visit me anytime you like. Any time."

He rose, taking her arm hard and led her toward the door. "There will be no other time, you understand! But I'll make sure that you are provided for, at least for a little while."

Mary didn't contradict him, but she could hear in his voice that he didn't fully believe himself. He would come back, and she would make sure that he left content, and wanting more. It hadn't been that hard to do, after all. She could do it, and since it was necessary, she would do it.

She repeated those thoughts over and over as she sat on Masbath's wagon. Van Garret had woken up his servant, and told him of what had happened, and now she sat beside a silent man, showing him the way to her home. Masbath didn't talk, he seemed uncomfortable being out alone with her at night, and Mary felt that she hated him too.

He did his task quickly and left her alone, without asking if there was anybody to care for her. Eliza was still gone, but Mary felt that her sister could stay away forever. In the pale light of dawn she could see Masbath making the sign to fend off evil when he drove away, and she smiled a small smile. Then she vomited on the floor, coughing up the disgusting traces of Van Garrett from her stomach. She curled up in the bed, trying to find comfort in the scent of her mother that lingered there, but that only made the pain overwhelm her. She cried herself to sleep, no one wanting or caring to give her any comfort.


	4. The Foolishnes of Men

Van Garrett came back, just as Mary had predicted. Not for some time- food was running scarce before he came, but in the end he did, looking both ashamed and excited. Mary told Eliza to get out, and her sister obeyed her without a word. It was easier this time, knowing what would happen, but what really helped Mary was the hatred she felt for the man.

She never showed what she felt though. She did what she had seen her mother do, and Van Garrett came back, again and again, bringing her the supplies needed for survival. Mary found it ridiculously easy to please him after a while, and laughed inside that he was so easily fooled to believe that she actually enjoyed what she did.

She cared for Eliza, though her sister grew increasingly more peculiar as the years passed. That they had once been close seemed little more than a dream now, but Mary knew that Mother would have wanted her to provide for Eliza, so she did. And she was at least some kind of company, and a source of warmth in the cold winter nights.

Oddly enough she found most comfort in going to the place where the Hessian had been buried. It had turned into a strange place, always cold, and whatever grew there, grew twisted and deformed. The enormous broadsword that had been driven into the ground at the grave stood still gleaming, despite the turns of seasons, and it was still as sharp as it had ever been. Now and then Mary touched the blade, and always got cut, the blood sinking into the ground fast.

She talked there, told the silence about her dreams and wishes. She felt curiously comfortable there, despite the bleakness, and she felt that if someone would have understood her, then it would have been the Hessian. And he was her triumph. The strongest man she had ever met, and it was she who had destroyed him. That thought was her strength, she had managed to have him killed for what he did to her, and then surely she would be able to destroy everyone else whom she hated.

In this manner some years went by. Mary left childhood- she didn't know days and months, but she did know the seasons, and she held count of her years. When she was around fourteen, Van Garrett started putting a new demand on her, something that she did not wish. She had manage to please him well with her mouth and hands, and as her body grew and turned into a woman's, she had let him touch her here and there, seeing that it turned him even more likely to return to her.

One thing only she had refused him, she had had never let him in between her thighs, and she held no wish to. He never raised the question when she was younger, but as her breasts grew and her hips swelled out, he started to bring on the subject. On and on he went, describing the pleasure it held, and how richly he would reward her for letting him.

At first she blankly refused. Though her mother had explained to her that the horror the Hessian had subjected her to, was mostly because of her immature form, the act of coupling scared her. She knew her mother had not found it painful, and she was much bigger now, but she still didn't want to try. Wasn't it enough for Van Garrett to make use of her mouth? The nagging and persuasions continued though, and after a while Mary started to think that perhaps it would be gainful for her to let him do what he wanted.

The fear she had once felt of leaving Sleepy Hollow had slowly changed. She knew what she was, an unkempt girl without much knowledge, and she was clever enough to see that she had no opportunities in the hut. It was all very well that Van Garrett kept her alive, but it was hardly the glorious revenge she wanted. To be able to fulfill that she had to leave and learn. And to be able to leave she needed money, and of that she had nothing. If she was to be able to leave, she needed to do something, and eventually she decided that giving Van Garrett what he wanted would provide her with the means she needed.

The next time he came she took care to be sweeter to him than usual, sitting in his lap and playing with his clothes, playfully unbuttoning his waistcoat and shirt so she was able to touch his skin underneath. Van Garrett's hands roamed her body, diving into her neckline to find her breasts, and then worming their way underneath her skirts. His palms felt sweaty on her skin, and she wiggled on his knees, rubbing against him seductively as she did so.

"I told you, not there," she said, but she gave him a coquettish smile as he did so, and he laughed.

"Oh, but perhaps I can persuade you today. I long for you so much, my sweet."

Again his hand went under her clothes, and again she pushed him away, but letting him reach a little higher every time. Van Garrett grew more eager, kissing her mouth and throat, whispering pleas of letting him. Mary continued to deny him, but eventually she was flat on her back on the floor with him over her, already loosening the buttons in his breeches. Suddenly Mary didn't see Van Garrett's familiar features above her, but those of the Hessian's. He was grinning at her, and she could clearly see the sharpened teeth, and she was seized by panic.

"No!" she screamed, twisting and turning in the man's grip, so he momentarily let go. She started to crawl away from him, screaming all the time, but he took hold of her legs and dragged her back, though she clawed at the earthen floor to try to stop him. She could feel the cold air hitting her backside as her skirts were yanked up, and the man placed himself between her legs. His hands grasped her waist and lifted her up, and then he pushed inside her and Mary screamed in pain. The scar tissues that had been left from the rape so many years earlier broke open, and she could see nothing but a red haze, but she could hear the Hessian laugh at her all the while it lasted.

When the haze lifted she was lying on the floor. Her nails were dirty from the earth, and she could feel liquid trickle down her legs. She pressed her hand against her the soreness between her legs and when she removed it her palm was red from blood. Van Garrett was still kneeling behind her, and now he didn't scare her anymore. Mary stretched out her hand against him in a silent accusation, and he reeled back.

"Oh Mary, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry. I shouldn't have done so. I'm so sorry."

"You took me against my will, you violated a virgin," Mary said. "When I go to the elders of Sleepy Hollow and tell them, it will cost you. My sister will testify, you can be sure of that, and after this you won't be worth much."

Actually Mary wasn't so sure that Eliza would say anything for her, but she wasn't going to let Van Garrett know that. Let him think that she had the means to destroy him. And it seemed that he did, guilt and fear was written all over his face.

"Please Mary, don't. I'll make it up to you, in anyway you want. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I could go away..." she began, and she could see a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"I could give you money, enough for you to get started somewhere else. Enough to buy some nice clothes. I'll even write you a letter of recommendation if you want- I'm sure you could get a good place as a maid then."

"I could, but there is Eliza. I can't take her with me, she isn't fit to be anywhere else, half wild as she is. I couldn't possibly leave my own sister."

"I'll take care of her, I promise. I'll make sure she has food and clothes. And I won't expect her to do anything for me."

Mary thought that he was telling the truth as Eliza was far from appealing. When Mary took care to look as neat as was possible under the circumstances, Eliza rarely allowed a comb to her hair, and the dirt she never washed away made her skin covered with scabs. So Mary could well understand that Van Garrett wouldn't want Eliza for anything.

"You have to promise me. I must be sure that Eliza is provided for."

"I promise. I'll swear it on the Bible if you want."

"Very well then, come with my money tonight, and I will be gone by the morning."

He left her quickly and Mary went to wash herself. She was shaking now, but she sharply told herself that to quit being so silly. She had done it, and if need be she would do it again. When the moon had risen she left the hut to go to the Hessian's resting place.

"I'm going away for a while," she told the grave. "But I will come back, and when I do, I will now how to take my revenge."

Before she left she touched the blade again, feeding the earth more of her blood, as if that would seal her words and make them true.


	5. Finding A Path

**Author's note: I recently took up this story again and when looking back I find that I have completely missed to post this chapter, even if I posted the chapter following it, called Learning. I'm very sorry. If you have read this story and found the plot odd by the end, then it is because you have missed a whole chapter. I hope you can forgive me.**

Van Garret didn't come back himself, he sent Masbath. Mary counted the money in the purse he threw at her and nodded in satisfaction. Not enough- it could never be enough, but it would do. Masbath even left her the letter of recommendation Van Garret had promised her, before he left hurriedly. Packing was easy enough, she didn't have much. She sewed her money into a hidden pocket in her petticoat, adding the gold coins the Hessian had given her. Eliza watched her in silence, until Mary was almost finished.

"You are leaving," she said, and it was not a question.

"Yes. You will get food, I've seen to that."

"You will come back."

"Yes."

Eliza looked at something above Mary's head and added vaguely. "It will just be woe and misfortunes if you do. I know you will return, and I wish you won't. Nothing good will come of it. You should stay away forever."

Mary didn't answer. She just left, not bothering with farewells. She wasn't sure that Eliza was fit to survive on her own, but she had done what she could. And she really didn't care- her sister had ceased to mean anything for her a long time ago.

She knew where she wanted to go, to New York. She knew it was a large city, and she felt confident that she would find what she wanted there. She walked, finding it easy to get directions to such a well-known place, but by afternoon she was picked up by two young men who were heading there themselves, and who readily promised she could join them.

Briefly Mary wondered if she ought to offer money, but when she saw the way the men looked at her, she realised that she could get out of debt without parting with her precious coins. They were young, and if not exactly good-looking they were not old and smelly like Van Garret- Mary had no qualms in offering them the same pleasures she had to that old man.

The young men talked and joked with her, but Mary found it difficult to join in their banter- she hadn't talked with strangers in years, and she found herself with no words to contribute. But she smiled, and laughed when it seemed appropriate, and that night the Taylor brothers thought themselves very lucky when their pretty passenger far exceeded the hopes they had for her company. When they parted at their destination they did so with deep regrets, but Mary forgot their faces as soon as she turned her back on them.

To find a job proved easy. Mary's neat looks and respectful ways helped, but the glowing recommendations she came with helped even more. To work as a maid, however, was hard. Mary soon found that she would never have time to learn what she needed if she had to spend most of her waking hour working for other people. And when the master of the house surprised her as she was making the bed, nearly choking her as he pressed her down in the feather mattress when he had her, she decided to leave.

She didn't feel particular shaken after the rape- it merely seemed to her that that was what men wanted- and she would better make sure that she got something for it. So she slunk away an early morning with some of her mistress' jewels- and a letter from the mistress' lover, which Mary felt was security enough to not be followed. She found a room and paid more than she really wanted to be able to live there alone. Things were far more expensive than she had expected, and she knew she had to find a source of income if she wanted to survive.

The solution seemed simple to her, ridiculously easy, really. Mary had sold herself for survival for years, so what was the difference to do for many what she had previously just done for one? It didn't matter to her what they did. She felt no pleasure or joy in it, and she often wondered what it was that made men into animals in their pursuit of it. And it was not without dangers- she saw the women who worked the street grow old before time, aging of despair and liquor, and she took care of herself. She felt no need to drink anyway, the vulnerability it gave with the relief scared her, and she quickly learned to avoid the pimps. She found that she could tell if a man suffered from illnesses, and she steered clear of them, however much they were willing to pay, and though that earned her some hard words, she found that easy to ignore.

After a time she found that she had enough men who came to her so she didn't have to venture out of the streets herself, and that pleased her. It gave her the time she needed to find knowledge. At first she wasn't sure what it was. She wanted revenge, yes, but how? She was a woman; she had no family, no connections. She had to find a weapon she could yield and control. Her mother had taught her the letters during the happy time before her father died, and now she slowly regained that knowledge. She recalled what her mother had told her, and for the first time she gave it a name- witchery.

With this definition in mind, Mary started to seek out those with knowledge of it. She paid whatever they wanted, money for some, and her body for others. She collected ideas, spells, recipes, without finding what she really wanted. She just stored it in her mind, the white magic, and the black, while she waited for the solution to reveal itself to her. But it took time, one year followed another, and she started to get impatient.

Change came the evening she was spoken to in a dark alley by a man. Mary took one look at his face and saw the disease that would eventually kill him lurk beneath his skin, like a shadow he wasn't aware of himself yet. She declined his offer, and tried to step aside, but the man grabbed her, intent on having his way nevertheless. Mary wasn't afraid of him, but she feared the illness, and she had a knife concealed on her body in case she needed it. Now she drove it without hesitation into the man's belly, and he fell to his knees.

Mary's first urge was to run, but he had seen her face, so she stepped beside him, and without really thinking about it, she yanked his head back and cut his throat. Blood spurted out, but standing behind the man protected her from being splattered. The man fell to the ground with a heavy thud, and Mary looked around, suddenly afraid that someone had spotted them. But the alley was empty, and she turned and quickly stepped into the shadows. She walked fast, dropping her knife in a sewer a few blocks away. Her heart was beating very hard in her chest, and first she thought she was terrified. She had to get away, she couldn't stay, but she couldn't flee tonight. That would be conspicuous- no, better to go to her room and leave early.

Well at home she examined her clothes, burning her gloves and shawl, and scrubbing her hands and face. She packed her things, making sure everything valuable was collected. Then she sank down on her bed- fully dressed, to wait for the dawn. Not until then did she realise that she wasn't afraid at all. No one had seen her, and the man was unknown to her, no one would connect them. She never worked those streets, she had only passed through. It wasn't fear that made her heart beat so, it was triumph. She had killed him. He had threatened her, and she had defended herself and won. Mary smiled when she fell asleep.

She was running in the wood, back at home. She could hear her pursuer coming after her, heavy and relentless steps, and she laughed as she ran. Then she was pushed down in the broken and colourless grass of winter, and the Hessian's hands ripped her clothes apart. But she wasn't afraid; she parted her legs willingly, filled with a strange ache. He bit her shoulders, then her breasts, and his sharpened teeth draw blood, and Mary welcomed the pain, spreading herself wider, arching her back to make him enter her. Then she was standing behind the man who had assaulted her again, the Hessian behind her, and in the same moment she slashed the man's throat, the Hessian filled her from behind, and Mary screamed in a pleasure she had never felt before.

She awoke in the scream, on her bed, her body still throbbing in pleasure. She slowly relaxed, still enjoying the lingering traces of warmth in her body. So, this was what men craved. Oh. And there was her answer, suddenly clear in her mind. The Hessian would help her to get her revenge. There must be a way to bring him back, and she, Mary Archer, would find it.

It took some days before anyone noticed that Mary was gone. She had made no friends beyond the slightest acquaintances, and no one knew to where she had left. And no one ever connected the body of an unknown sailor with the missing woman.


	6. Learning

**AN: You may have read this chapter before as I mistakingly posted it before I posted the previous chapter. That is now corrected. If you still follow this story after all these years, then I hope you will be pleased to hear that there will be a new chapter soon, probably in a few days time.**

When Mary made a run, she already knew where she was going - to Boston. She had many times heard rumours of an old wizard who knew things no one else knew. And now, she thought, was the time to seek him out / search him out . Feeling secure enough that she had not been connected with the murder, she took an ordinary carriage. The travel was tedious, and to amuse herself she thought out a suitable background, that she, when the travellers started to speak with each other, carefully portioned out.

The fat woman in front of her grew very interested. She felt sorry for Mary becoming a widow so young, horrified that her parents had disliked it, and now forced her to come back to a home where she had no goodness to accept. She had herself married for love, as well as a good deal of money, and she found Mary very romantic indeed. And perhaps even useful?

"You see," she explained. "I'm going to see my old aunt. She's starting to become very frail, and is in need of a nurse. The problem is that she absolutely refuses. Now, if you could consider not going home to your dreadful parents, but to come with me instead, I'll introduce you as a young friend, she'll be sure to like such a proper young lady as you, and by the time I leave I'm sure we can have a very good pretence for you staying with her. I will pay you quite handsomely, and I will feel so much better knowing that Aunt has respectable company."

At first Mary declined, but then allowed herself to be persuaded. It was, she felt, almost too good to be true, to get her boarding secured in Boston this way, and without any need for her to continue to sell herself. She had grown tired of men and their disgusting pawing of her body, and to take care of an old lady didn't seem hard work at all. Why, she had nursed her mother when she was a young child, surely she could do this as well.

As it turned out, things worked the way Mrs. Carpenter had predicted. Old Mrs. Crump quickly grew charmed by her niece's young friend, and in the end it was arranged that Mary should stay and keep the old woman company. It was by far the easiest thing that Mary had ever done for a living. Mrs. Crump wanted someone to read for her, or chat, but she often nodded away, leaving Mary to her own thoughts. Soon Mary got the idea to help those naps a little with laudanum. That was also very useful for the night, ensuring that Mary would not be disturbed.

When she had arranged it so that her nights were her own, she started out to find the man who might have the knowledge she wanted. It took some time- when she finally found the right neighbourhoods to ask, the people were reluctant to answer. This man was evidently feared, but instead of scaring her, that only made her even more determined to find him. At long last she found herself in a very dark alley, and knocking at a door. It took a long time before she could hear shuffling steps from the inside and the bolts lifted. Before the door finally opened Mary was suddenly seized with fear and almost ran away. The magic she had learned had all been on such a small scale- this would be infinitely worse. But then the door was slowly opened, and though the inside looked black, Mary stepped inside.

"Come, come," a very old voice said, and she could dimly see a figure in the darkness. She followed the stooped man into a kitchen that was at least lit, if not much so, and her host turned toward her. The old man she saw was one of the most unsavoury men Mary had ever seen, but his eyes shone with intelligence, and they looked very sharply at her.

"What is it that you want, girl? A love potion? Getting rid of something in your belly?"

"No, nothing like that. I've heard that you know some useful things- I'd like to learn some."

He looked even closer at her. "There's knowledge and there is knowledge- what do you really want?"

Though she had not meant to say anything about it at this, the very first meeting, Mary found herself answering. "I want to wake a dead man to exact revenge for me."

"And you think I can help you with that."

Mary looked back into his eyes and answered calmly. "I know you can."

He was silent for a while before he continued. "It isn't easy, even if everything is prepared in the right way. And there are three things that I doubt a young thing like you can pull off.

"Tell me."

"First, it has to be a man who had a cold heart, a man that has done the most unforgivable things. Second, the person who wakes him must have been badly wronged by him. And third, that person must be the one who has put him in the ground in the first place."

Mary laughed. "Not more than that, all those things are already fulfilled."

The old man went closer, so close that Mary could barely stand still when his reeking breath wafted over her face. He looked her even deeper into her eyes, staring for a long time. Then he smiled crookedly.

"I see. You are a most unusual young woman. Very well, I will teach you. But not for a while; you need to be taught other things first."

Mary sighed in relief. "How can I pay you?" She leaned forward to let him glimpse her full breast. "I'll pay you everything you want."

The man laughed wheezily. "I believe you. But I have no interest in your body, you can keep that to yourself. I'll teach you because I don't want to take my secrets to the grave. But don't think you are getting it for free in the end. These are terrible things to know, and they won't bring you any happiness. And if you're not careful, it may eat you up."

"I don't care."

"I rather thought you wouldn't. Well, come in here and we'll start."

In the months that passed Mary sometimes marvelled how tedious learning about magic could be. She had only ever learned snatches and bits here and there, but the old man went deeper. And started with the beginning. In addition to that, he forced her to read books that had nothing to do with what she wanted to learn. Great writers and philosophers seemed far beyond her simple goal, and at first they bored her exceedingly. Eventually she started to change her mind. The more she learned, the more she could see how things fitted together, how thoughts and ideas had been changed over time, and in the end everything she learned got a meaning far beyond what she had ever thought possible.

It took more than a year, but in the end she did learn what she wanted. Shortly after that Mrs. Crump died peacefully in her sleep- no one of her near and dear suspecting anything else, other than old age. And dear nurse Mary returned to New York, confident that no one would recognize her.


	7. Waiting

On her return to New York, Mary suddenly realized that although she now had learned all she needed to know how to exact her revenge, she had no idea how to return to Sleepy Hollow. She would not, could not, return to the shackle in the woods. To once again live in squalor would be too hard and then there was her sister. Eliza may very well be dead by now, but Mary didn't care to come back and find that she had to live with her sister again. But Sleepy Hollow was an isolated place with few visitors and it would be impossible for a woman to arrive all alone and without an accepted place in the community. Mary thought about it long and hard and in the end the only solution she could come up with was to continue with the new profession she so accidently had picked up. She would continue with her nursing, people always needed nurses and eventually someone in Sleepy Hollow would need one too. She had been patient so far and she could be patient for a while yet. Mary carefully put every spell she could think of to nudge events to ensure that her fate would see her back to her birthplace and then she started to look for a new position.

It was not so difficult to find a suitable place and soon she took care of a young woman, Mrs. Moore, who was going through her first pregnancy. It was not hard work, the lady was more nervous than actually ill and she soon took a great liking to her nurse. For the first time in her life Mary was in the close company of a woman of her own age and to her surprise and apprehension she found that she liked her mistress. Mrs. Moore was a fashionable lady who lamented that her increasing girth made it impossible to wear pretty clothes and instead she turned her attention to Mary's meager wardrobe, furnishing it with things that she herself couldn't wear anymore and a stream of excellent advice on how to dress well. Mary accepted the clothes, stored the advices carefully in her mind and she also studied Mrs. Moore closely, watching and learning to copy her manners and refined speech. Mrs. Moore was also furnished with a husband, as young and nervous as she was and Mary quite liked him too. Even if he clearly enjoyed her looks as most men Mary met did, he never tried to take advantage of her. Instead he was grateful for every little thing she could do to ease his wife progressing pregnancy and Mary, basking in the real warmth her employers felt for her, blossomed. In her mirror she saw a very pretty reflection in a subdued elegance she would never have thought possible when she starved in the woods. The few months she stayed with the Moore's would forever be remembered as the happiest days in her life, apart from the early childhood she never allowed herself to dwell upon.

Naturally the best midwife that could be found was to be had at the birth, but Mary assisted. It was a perfectly normal birth- a good deal of pain and hardship for the mother, but nothing out of the ordinary. A healthy boy was born and when the midwife had washed and swaddled him, she gave him to Mary to bring back to his mother. She had never held a baby in her arms before and it was a complete shock for her. The child, so small and warm mewed and turned his head blindly toward her body, opening his mouth in a newborn's instinct for food. He was so helpless and an unexpected tenderness rushed through Mary. She quickly placed the baby in his mother's waiting arms, fleeing the room as quickly as she could with the excuse to tell the very new father the excellent news.

After she hurried to her room, craving to be alone. There she lay on her bed, placing her hands over her stomach. She had always accepted what her mother had said, that the infection caused by the Hessian's rape had left her barren. There had never been any reason to doubt it; she had never been impregnated when she walked the streets. She had never even wanted children, not in her present life and not in her future. There had never seemed like there would be a place for them in her life, however she envisioned it. But after holding that small body in her arms, Mary needed to know if she could conceive a child or not. She concentrated on her womb, going deeper and deeper into her mind to understand her body. She found nothing but darkness. Her womb was just a mass of scar tissue where nothing could grow. Dry-eyed she started up in the ceiling, whispering over and over again;

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you." In her mind the Hessian just laughed.

Mary gave her notice the day after, evading all requests to stay with the truth: she knew nothing about children, it was much better to hire a woman competent in rearing a child. The Moore's were flabbergasted, ensuring her that she was needed, but Mary was adamant. She left with glowing recommendations and in the years that followed, Mary never lacked work. She worked hard, using her knowledge to heal and never again to harm and most of her patience lived to heap praise over the wonderful nurse Mary. She earned enough to find lodging with a respectable widow and though she never lost her focus to one day return to Sleepy Hollow, life was not bad during those years. The only thing she never did was to take a position in a house where there were small babies and she never nursed children.

On one of those rare occasions that Mary was between positions, a man came to her lodgings and asked for her and Mary received him in her landlady's lodgings. It was a middle aged man with a kindly but unremarkable face. He was simply dressed and his clothes were very unfashionably cut, but Mary's sharp eyes took in the good quality of the fabric and the excellent workmanship on his shoes and concluded that this man had money. Not a townsman, though, but somehow vaguely familiar. He presented himself as Baltus Van Tassel and proceeded to explain that he had travelled to New York from a small town called Sleepy Hollow in search for a nurse.

Mary felt quite faint. This was the moment she had waited for, it had finally arrived. Her heart beat furiously and her mouth felt dry, but she managed to smile politely, offering a seat and an invitation to her guest to continue his story. While he talked she looked at him closely and after some thinking she could place him. He was the man who had been given her home by Van Garrett. Evidently he had prospered and the old hate awoke in Mary's heart. This was one of the men she wanted her revenge on and he was now offering the prefect way back to Sleepy Hollow.

It seemed his wife was ill, gravely ill. She needed a nurse and he, Van Tassel, wanted only the best for her. He had heard that nurse Mary was just that, but he knew that Sleepy Hollow was nothing to compared to New York. He was sure nurse Mary wouldn't care to go such a long way from home. He was sure she was already engaged and he would, of course, not ask her to break any previous commitments. But if she could consider, well, the money would be very good, very good indeed.

And Mary smiled and said that she usually didn't leave New York, but for this particular case she would make an exception and that she could be ready to leave the very next day. That evening she quit her lodgings and packed all her worldly goods. She was done with New York and would never return. Now she was going home.


End file.
